(Don't) Rain on My Parade
by Kira Vulpes
Summary: It's not easy being a ghost. Especially if you've got the fate of the Cursed Realm riding on your shoulders, you can't find this one stupid rock, and it just keeps raining. Or, Morro keeps possessing random things and doesn't appreciate it. Set before season 5.


**(Don't) Rain on My Parade**

Author's Note: Happy belated Allhallowtide (Oct. 31-Nov. 2)! Enjoy the struggles of our favorite resident ghost blundering about Ninjago (sorry, Cole) in the spirit of all things spooky. ;) A oneshot request from ShinyShiny9 for "Morro possessing random things and being grouchy about it." I'm always delighted to annoy Morro, so this was a lot of fun to write!

* * *

Possession.

The feeling of confidence, sheer power, of controlling anyone or anything.

By the time he escapes the Cursed Realm, Morro considers himself something of an expert. The Preeminent herself, after all, trusts him to possess new recruits to her cause, checking for ulterior motives or even possession by rival ghosts.

Here in Ninjago, he finds himself surrounded by weak, oblivious fools. He shouldn't have a problem finding the Realm Crystal.

And yet.

The first obstacle is remembering to stay hidden. To let anyone see him, a ghost, could jeopardize everything, and he doesn't _fail_. Fortunately, this proves an easy challenge to meet.

The second obstacle is finding information on the Realm Crystal. This quickly becomes a headache, but he has some ideas where to look. And if need be, he will scour every inch of Ninjago—and beyond.

But it is the third obstacle that proves the least expected and the most frustrating.

Rain.

* * *

It catches Morro off guard one day, traveling toward Ninjago City. A few faint drops that scald his intangible skin. The pain reminds him that even now, even as a ghost, he is _vulnerable_.

Rain sent him into the Cursed Realm in the first place. Granted, he had sought it out as a final act of spite toward Yang (several particularly nasty curses fill his mind at that creature who dared transform him into a ghost and control him), but all the same. He can't go back.

He dives down, tumbling into the first thing he can find. Just in time, too, as the raindrops pick up. They slide down his fur, weighing him down, but that's the only annoyance. He's safe.

Wait, hold on—_fur_?

Small body, bushy tail, tiny paws. Oh, this can't be happening. It's a—he's a—a _squirrel_!

If the other ghosts saw him now, he would never hear the end of it. He rubs his face self-consciously and glares at the sky. A raindrop falls in his eye for his trouble.

The squirrel seems confused by his presence, trying to lower its head. He lets it with a resigned growl.

The rain, meanwhile, steadily drizzles. The squirrel roots around the ground, chitters at its neighbors, and chases them around.

Finally, as Morro considers forcing this squirrel toward Ninjago City just so he can do _something_, the rain begins to slacken.

_About time!_

He fidgets, waiting for the last accursed drops to fall. He'll have to make sure he pays better attention to the weather—

Foreign fear stabs through him.

Primal. Strong. Overwhelming.

_Run._

The squirrel bounds toward the closest tree while others shriek in alarm. It catches a paw, stumbles, leaps up, begins to race forward again—

Sharp talons close around him. Morro can feel their points pricking his skin and he twists at the last moment. The talons grip him but don't pierce his body.

He can't relax, though. The squirrel is screaming bloody murder and Morro's hold over the body is slipping. The hawk gives a deafening screech and they're beginning to lift into the air—

This is ridiculous.

Morro steels him himself and switches hosts. It's a risky maneuver: the rain is still sprinkling, but there's no way he's going to be flown across Ninjago as a _squirrel_, so help him.

Hunger creeps into him as he takes over the hawk, but he focuses on relaxing its talons. The squirrel drops not too far with a startled squeak. Morro channels some of the squirrel's lingering fear into the hawk and it's confused enough not to resist as Morro flies away.

By the time the rain finally, mercifully stops, Morro is in a downright awful mood.

* * *

The sky has been gray for a while now, but the first raindrops startle Morro. One sizzles his hair and he speeds downward like the hawk he briefly possessed. The ground is flat—just grass, that's why he'd tried to hurry on—and he slams into the earth.

A blade of grass stiffens as the rain falls in earnest.

He seeks refuge in the roots, but he can still feel the rain. Giant, menacing missiles. Bitter reminders of his fragility: here he is, one meaningless part of a sea of grass. How is he supposed to help anyone like this?

But somehow, when Wu decided Morro wasn't special, _she_ thought otherwise. She saw something in him.

Somehow, when Yang thought he had a new ghost slave, Morro proved him wrong and escaped.

Somehow, when the streets tried to break him, he challenged them just by living.

Somehow, when destiny denied him, he got a second chance.

The grass around him lift their leaves wide, drinking rain and turning a richer green.

One leaf stands rigid in the rain, defiant.

* * *

He thinks Ninjago City offers a good start for finding the Realm Crystal. The city opened its library with pride when he lived there; later, when he learned how to read, he understood why. He doesn't expect to find the Crystal there, but surely a lead. And the more reasons to avoid the monastery…the better.

By now, Morro realizes that weather is a devious mistress to anticipate: heavy, dark clouds that smell like rain sometimes break apart into a sunny day; the sun looks on while rain suddenly pours like a giant, upended bucket. He's getting better at sensing changes in the air, at least, but even that gives fickle answers. He yells at the sky sometimes.

In short, he can't control the weather and that irritates him to no end.

Here, at least, he's in a forest surrounding a village, and he flits between the branches with ease. The clouds gather above him, an ominous gray. He pauses as a burst of wind blows past and he's sure this time it's going to storm well before thunder bellows.

Morro moves to possess one of the trees, briefly distracted by the shout of a child running back to the village. He shakes his head—he got over a fear of storms early on, since storms and rain provide perfect distractions for pickpocketing marks.

…Ironic, considering his position now.

The rain breaks, battering down. Strange, he can _feel_ the rain more than he expects. It slams against his slender frame. It's not bark, Morro realizes with a start. It's…it's… A kite.

The rain is too intense to switch hosts. He is well and truly _stuck_. He wants to laugh; the kite shivers. He wants to fly; skinny branches hold him back.

Wu hands him a kite, hesitates guiltily as the kettle whistles inside. "I will be quick," he apologizes and leaves Morro staring at the kite. It is a breezy day, and the wind plays at the edge of the kite teasingly. He always enjoys windy days; they're another reason why he doesn't fear storms. But something about _this_ moment, _this_ place where he finally accepts he is safe and—and _wanted_; _this_ simple realization that he is happy and _loved_ and loves—_trusts_ in return— There is something deep within him that feels whole. The wind tugs gently at his hair. He knows Wu will keep his word and return—he doesn't question that anymore. Instead, he closes his eyes, smiles, breathes out, and lets _go_.

And stares in wonder as the kite hovers several feet in the air above him. He turns to find Wu staring at him in shock but also…also _pride_.

He wants to cry, but kites don't cry.

* * *

Ninjago City…

Is not what Morro remembers.

Everything is too bright and too loud. Too foreign. Only the signs saying "Ninjago City" suggest he came to the right place. And maybe, maybe if he squints hard, that noisy, flashy "videogame store" is the same building that once sold clothes that he stole discarded fabric from. Maybe.

Either way, it's too overwhelming.

He retreats to a quieter area at the edge of town. There's a large grocery store here and the ground is a massive black road with more cars than he's seen in his lifetime (cars used to be rare, exciting things to stare at), but it's out of the bustle of the city proper. He floats above the road, the cars, the store, grateful to be the highest thing in the area. Maybe he can actually think now.

How long has he been gone? _Time passes the same in the Cursed Realm and…_ He tries to do some quick calculations, but the bright, glowing signs and clamor of the city still crowd his mind. _It…hasn't even been 20 years since I became a ghost. Right? _But how did everything change so fast?

Morro shakes his head with a sigh, wind tousling his hair. It doesn't matter, really. He just has another obstacle: learn the city. At least enough to find the library. And a bigger city, full of crammed buildings and objects cluttering the streets, means more places to hide from rain. _The strangest game of hide-and-seek_.

The wind tugs his hair again, stronger. The air feels…off.

_Oh no…_

It's not just the cool air from his height. The temperature has dropped and there's a sharp tension in the air. His hair begins to stand on end.

_Oh no!_

He hurtles downward—_faster, faster!_—and spins to the side not a moment too soon: Lightning crackles past him.

He freezes, eyes wide, blood pounding in his ears and chest.

A raindrop breaks the spell, searing his hand. Thunder shakes the sky. Morro jerks his hand back, as if that will help, and races for the closest car. He sinks into it gratefully as the rain pours and people in the black road scurry and shout.

This time, the noise is just a backdrop, and he shakily lets himself relax.

* * *

_Screeee-eech! Scree-screeeetch!_

The sharp, grating noise jolts Morro awake. He blinks, pauses as he registers he can't blink, and mentally sighs. Falling asleep in a host, even an inanimate one, is dangerous. Where has the car brought him? What if they've gone halfway across Ninjago by now?

_Screeeee-tchtch!_

"Of _course_ I get the squeaky one," a loud voice says. "First I'm caught in the rain; now this."

The light is bright but fake. Morro sits, swaying gently, still disoriented.

"Yeah, what a storm!" another voice agrees. "It started so fast—and that lightning! I've never seen it strike so close. Good thing we have lightning rods."

"I didn't even want to come," the first voice, feminine, continues. "But I need sugar for that recipe for the party. I already agreed to make the cookies, you know? Otherwise I'd be tempted to bring something else."

Morro feels the vibration of the woman's voice and realizes two things: one, he's in the grocery store, and two, he is not possessing a car. He somehow is a painfully loud pink and orange scarf.

_Screeeee!_

The woman pushes the squealing metal cart around a corner. Morro debates switching to the cart, but the risk of being noticed is too high and that cart sounds like it's dying…

He quickly regrets not taking that risk. The entire grocery store experience is excruciating. The woman chatters nonstop about nothing, ruining what little interest he had in how stores have changed. Who cares what flavor of creamer you get? Isn't it just milk? The type of bread doesn't matter as long as you have some to eat. Why does a grocery store sell candles, and what does the scent matter when you can afford electricity? How long does it take to pick a candle anyway? Do you really have to sniff _every._ _Single. One?_

The scarf twitches but resists the urge to strangle its bearer.

Of course when they finally leave, the storm keeps going. Morro prepares himself to possess the car when they reach the woman's house—risks be Cursed, he can't stand another minute—but instead, they drive to a shop with a strange mermaid sign.

"Ooh, a triple chocolate taro hazelnut espresso would be _perfect_ right now," she sighs.

"Mmm, a ginger plum latte," her friend agrees.

This space swarms with people. Rain pelts the fabric of the scarf. It flaps unhappily in a sudden gust of wind.

Inside, a strong, heavy odor assaults Morro's fibers. People keep talking about "frappuccinos" and "lattes." What happened to drinking tea? Tea is clearly the superior drink to this foul sludge. How have people forgotten this in the past few years?

"I'll just have a jasmine tea," a woman in front of them orders, and the scarf stops twitching.

* * *

The rest of that day continues much in the same vein. It's not until dusk that Morro frees himself. He wants to scream in triumph and send wind howling through the city, starting with that stupid mermaid shop, but no, this is a matter of stealth. Too much rides on him.

Instead, he floats through the city. The night still crawls with people and noise but not as badly. It's almost tolerable.

And there, there near what used to be the center of town: the Ninjago City Library. A center of information and stories, hopefully with some direction for the Realm Crystal. He sighs in relief. Compared to what got him here, this should be easy.

…Right?

* * *

A/N: We all know the answer, Morro, and it's no. You should know that by now. ;P

For anyone who's read my story _Preeminent Rising _or wants more Morro woes, this oneshot takes place shortly before the library scene in chapter 10. And yes, I headcannon that Yang is responsible for Morro's ghostliness-I'm not sold on his corpse being so perfectly preserved in the Caves of Despair. But more on that another day...

Reviews are always appreciated! :3


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